


Sin in the City

by itstonedme



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Casey/Zeke Hallowe'en Grab Bag 2014 on LJ.  Don't let the violence rating fool you – this is strictly Hallowe'en fare. Inspired by the Frank Miller/Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino film <i>Sin City</i>. Special thanks to Aliensouldream for organizing this and making me put on my writing cap. *mwah*  Originally posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/103127.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin in the City

It was a dark and stormy night.

No, truly, it was. It was a blustery, pissing-down, Indian-ink night, and Casey and Zeke were out in it, driving on a four-lane highway back to Herrington after a day spent checking out a car show in a neighbouring town. The drive had turned grizzly. Even set to high, the GTO's wipers were barely able to keep up with the deluge, and the windshield kept fogging no matter which setting Zeke tried with the blower. He kept wiping the misting glass with a car rag, tossing it to Casey every so often and telling him to do his side. Casey knew road conditions had turned really bad when Zeke punched off the music so that he could concentrate.

It was October 30th, the eve before the Hallowed Eve, not that Casey or Zeke had any plans for Hallowe'en. They had mulled over the idea of renting costumes and checking out Delilah Profitt's annual party, but nothing had gelled. More appealing had been the idea of staying in at Zeke's and watching some old Vinnie Price movies with a case of Corona and a plate or five of nachos.

They drove on, puddles catching the tires and the thumping beat of the wipers threatening to drive them both crazy. Finally, Zeke palmed his face and groaned. "My fucking eyes," he said from peering at the road for the best part of an hour. He blinked large and stretched his neck. "I need a break."

"Take the next exit," Casey said. "You don't want to pull off to the side out here. Some truck might run up your ass."

A mile or two on, a sign loomed suddenly in the dark before they barely had a chance to read it. "Miller's Basin?" Casey said after they'd passed it. "How'd you like to live in a place named after a sink?"

"Long as it has a pit stop for a piss and two coffees to go, they can name it whatever they want," Zeke replied. He sounded tired.

The cat's eyes in the pavement marked the exit clearly enough and at the stop sign where it ended, they could see street lights to their right. Zeke turned towards them.

Within a quarter mile, he pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store, its gas pumps empty. Evidently, everyone was smarter than they were. No one was out tonight. "You need to go in?" he said to Casey.

"Nah, bladder's good, and I'd rather not get wet."

Zeke turned off the engine. "Fucking rain," he growled as he opened the door, closing it quickly before darting to the store, jacket pulled over his head.

Casey leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes, watching the white lines and fog markers play against the back of his eyelids. Even though he wasn't driving, he'd watched the road just as closely as Zeke, and as tired as his eyes were, it was more the mental exhaustion that was wearing. They were halfway home, maybe another hour tops before they got back to Zeke's. It was good that they had stopped. It felt good to rest his eyes.

Casey opened them as a shadow broke the light between the store and the car. He figured he must have nodded off for a moment. Through the smeared windshield he could see Zeke rushing back, two lidded coffee cups stacked in one hand as he hurried to open the driver's door. Zeke climbed in, cursing the rain all over again, and handed Casey his coffee.

Casey blinked. And blinked again. There was something the matter with his eyes. Since he'd awakened from his brief micro nap, he was seeing everything in grey tones except for a few splashes of colour, like the bright logo on the coffee cup he had just taken from Zeke. His eye strain must have been worse than he thought.

Not only that, but there was some weirdness going on with Zeke. It was like he'd bought a new wardrobe while he was buying coffee. "Nice threads, dude," Casey said. "Where did you get the hat and coat?"

Zeke looked down at the wool trench coat he wore, causing water to run off the fedora on his head where it splashed onto the console. "It's what I've been wearing all day, Case. What the fuck?"

"No," Casey replied. "It most definitely is not."

Zeke shook his head and grinned before he sank the keys into the ignition. "Take a hit of your coffee. You're just tired. I see you popped your lenses while I was inside. I don't remember those glasses, but they look good on you."

Casey's fingers came up to his face. Sure enough, he was wearing glasses. He pulled down the sun visor where a mirror was clipped, and looked at his reflection, all in black and white except for the blue of his eyes. "What's going on?" he asked, more to himself than Zeke.

"The rain is letting up is what's going on," Zeke said, placing his wet hat down by Casey's feet and shoulder checking as he backed up.

"What am I wearing?" Casey asked, looking down at himself. Gone was his denim jacket. In its place was a shiny loose black vinyl rain bomber with a god-awful white zigzag across the chest.

Zeke glanced at him. "Your usual gay nerd shit," he said. "You okay, Case?"

Casey was definitely not okay, but the fact that Zeke was oblivious to anything being out of the ordinary caused him to flip the visor shut and stare straight out the window without another word. Zeke was right about the rain. It had abated, coming down only in misty droplets that Zeke was able to clear with an intermittent wiper setting. "Let's just get home," Casey said.

Zeke pulled out of the parking lot onto the roadway, turning left.

"The highway's the other way," Casey said, but now he was peering out the side window at all the unlit brick factory buildings lining the street. He hadn't noticed them when they'd driven in – the rain had been too heavy – but now the street looked much more developed than he had at first assumed, and really run down. He had figured Miller's Basin to be a one-hick town out in the country, but from the looks of this street, it was a small city, and a rough looking one at that. The buildings were old with boarded up and broken windows. How could they have not seen the city from the highway when they'd driven by on the way to the car show only that morning? It hadn't been raining then, just dull and overcast.

And why was everything still in black and white?

"I thought we'd hunt down a burger place before we get back on the road," Zeke said. "All of a sudden I'm starving. Surely there's a gotta be one someplace in this dump."

But there didn't seem to be. The more they drove, the farther into the city they went. But except for a lone car passing the other way, the town looked deserted. Even the odd house between the buildings showed no sign of life, and the few traffic lights they came upon at intersections were stuck on flashing mode. Casey wondered if some parts of town were experiencing a power failure because of the downpour.

"Finally!" Zeke exclaimed. "Life!" He slowed down and pulled into a lot.

Casey peered through the front window at a well-lit diner. **Roberto's** the neon sign announced in glowing red. Zeke backed into a side space and reached for his hat, setting it on his head once they got out, angling the brim over one eye.

"Looks dead," Casey said as they approached the entrance. None of the booths at the front window were occupied, and when they walked in, they found themselves alone, save for a gum-chewing young woman in a black leather jacket and low-cut top wiping the counter by the till, her short spiked hair peroxide white. Casey couldn’t help but notice that the only colour on her was her blood red mouth and the gold piercings on her lips, nostril and eyebrows.

"You look hungry," she said with a complete lack of interest as the two of them stood taking in the emptiness. "Meals are in back." She hooked her head towards a saloon-style door that led to a hallway and continued wiping, ignoring them.

"I don't know, Zeke," Casey said quietly. Suddenly, stopping didn't seem like such a good idea. "Let's just get back on the road. We can eat at home."

But Zeke turned to him with a grin. "Come on, Case. Where's your sense of adventure? Bet you there's a whole other scene happening back there." He plucked a toothpick from the holder on the counter and stuck it in his teeth. "Can't you hear the music?"

Now that he listened, Casey could. Actually, more of a beat than a melody, really faint, but certainly something more lively than anything he'd heard or seen since they'd pulled off the highway. "'K," he said, although he was hardly convinced.

Zeke pushed through the doors into the hallway ahead of Casey, and as they approached the closed door twenty feet down the hall, the bass beat grew louder. When Zeke opened the door at the end, they were assaulted with a barrage of music and laughing voices. It was a bar, one in full swing, a DJ spinning up on a platform, a dozen or more people on the dance floor, waiters with loaded drink trays held aloft as they snaked through the crowd. Smoking was obviously not banned here; the air was thick. Zeke turned to Casey with a big grin as he moved into the room, his expression saying, _Was I right, or was I right?_

Casey smiled back weakly. He wasn't big on closed-in crowded rooms. Gym class, science class, history class and the school cafeteria had basically taught him that, and conditioned responses died hard. But Zeke had needed a break, and as long as they grabbed a bite and then split, he could deal with it. He followed Zeke to the bar.

"Are we able to get something to eat in here?" Zeke yelled, leaning in towards the bartender who'd slapped a beer mat on the counter in front of him. A menu was slapped next to the coaster by way of reply.

"Get in here," Zeke said, turning to Casey, squeezing sideways at the crowded rail and pulling him forward. He opened the menu. "What do you feel like?"

"Something fast," Casey yelled back. "Like, maybe something to go."

"I don't think they do take-out," Zeke said, studying the menu. "You want a burger?"

Casey nodded sure just at the moment that someone backed into him and jammed him against the bar top. He turned towards the guy who'd crowded him, a big guy in leathers and suddenly, Casey was super pissed. "Watch your fucking step," he snarled at the guy's back.

The man turned around slowly with a scowl. He had at least 130 pounds and eight inches on Casey.

"He's joking!" Zeke shouted quickly, his hands turned out to show no harm, no foul. "Come on, look at him. I'll bet you eat bigger guys for breakfast." When the guy turned away again, muttering something about the foul-mouthed little prick not being old enough to even be allowed in the place, Zeke leaned towards Casey. "What the fuck, Case? You want us both to be carried out of here?"

"I don't know where that came from," Casey said. "All of a sudden I wanted to kill him."

"Well, I appreciate that you've learned how to fight to the death, but back here in the real world, you've gotta learn where to pick your battles. And this place ain't it." Zeke motioned for the bartender and tapped the burger line of the menu, holding up two fingers. The bartender collected the payment and pointed to the end of the bar, indicating that there was an order counter around the corner where they could collect their food.

By now, Zeke figured it was probably best to get Casey out of traffic, so they moved to the empty waiting area past the end of the bar. Casey slouched against the far wall while Zeke went up to the order counter to let them know the burgers would be his. When he was done, he turned and leaned against the wall beside it, staring at Casey, his lips curling into a slow smile.

"I like this thing you've got going," he said, swiping the air from Casey's head to toe. "Super geek. Great jacket. Great Chucks," he added, glancing at Casey's feet. "You never get them dirty."

Casey looked down at his high tops. Considering that what he was wearing wasn't what he'd put on that morning, it was still nice whenever Zeke signalled that he had quietly been checking him out. Casey was still smiling at his feet when he heard a voice say, "Hey there, sailor."

He glanced up. A stranger had come up to the counter, maybe to pick up his own order, but Casey didn't think so. He had the same slight build as Casey, same height, but he was all blonde and spiky like the waitress out front – could have been her twin brother for all Casey knew. But the way this kid was eyeballing Zeke, Casey figured whatever this kid wanted to eat came dressed in a trench coat and fedora. Casey's blood ran cold and his hand unconsciously went to the pocket of his new, out-of-the-blue bomber.

Zeke looked at the kid, mildly amused. "Do I look like a sailor?" he said pleasantly to humor him.

"No," the kid said, eyeballing the lapel of Zeke's coat before glancing up to his hat, then settling on Zeke's dark eyes. "You look like a salesman. You selling something, handsome?"

Casey's hand closed around the object in his pocket. Even sight unseen, he knew it was a switch blade, knew it as if he'd known all along it would be there in the first place. Somehow, it felt familiar. Really familiar. Even friendly.

The kid reached up and slid his fingers under the lapel of Zeke's coat. "Nice," he crooned. "Soft. Covers all the hard bits, I'm thinking." He tugged on the lapel, then released it, petting it goodbye.

"Next time you lay a hand on him you'll lose it," Casey said, just loud enough for the three of them to hear.

Zeke glanced at Casey, a frown beginning to form. The kid looked over too, as if noticing Casey for the first time.

"Are you talking to me, choir boy?" the kid said. "Maybe you need to run home. This is grown up conversation we're having here." He reached out to Zeke once more as if baiting Casey, dragging his fingers along the fine wool of the coat.

Except for the switch blade tumbling slowly and silently in his pocketed palm, Casey didn't move. Instead, his chin came down and he smiled, lips closed, eyes locked on the kid's. He stared long enough for worry to start clouding the kid's eyes. Then, within a heartbeat, Casey pushed off the wall, his nice clean Converse sneakers sprinting silently, and his hand flashed out of his pocket, slicing upwards below the kid's wrist. For a moment, it seemed as if time slowed right down, the severed hand tumbling up and up and up into the air, pale and white and certainly not where it was meant to be.

And then the kid was shrieking and blood was spraying all over the place, not ink black to Casey but very, very crimson. The panicked anguish of the young man's cries was enough to kill all the chatter at that end of the bar as heads turned.

 _"Jeezus!!"_ Zeke screamed and he grabbed Casey by the shoulders and spun him towards the fire exit. "RUN!" he yelled, pushing both Casey and the door at the same time. "NOW!! Run for the car!!"

Casey flew into the damp night air, the force of Zeke's hands on his back. He was laughing and whooping and hollering at Zeke as he snapped the knife shut, asking him if he'd seen the expression on the kid's face. Zeke just kept running and screaming for Casey to get in the car, get in the car, _get in the fucking car!_ Casey noticed that Zeke had lost his fedora. He'd have to get him another.

They peeled out of the parking lot, the back end fishtailing on the wet pavement, hell bent towards the highway. Zeke was hunched forward, clinging to the wheel, yelling at the windshield, yelling at Casey, telling him that he was insane, that he was crazy, that maybe that alien shit had fucked with his head, that Casey needed to get real and wake the fuck up…

"Casey, wake up."

Casey opened his eyes. The rain had started again, drumming in hard bullets on the roof of the car. He could make out the convenience store in all its glorious colour through the water-splattered windshield. He turned towards Zeke, who held out a coffee.

"Black, two sugar," Zeke said. "You fell asleep, my man."

"Fuck," Casey gasped and pulled down the visor, checking himself, not that he needed to. He could already feel the drag of his contacts on the surface of his eyes. "I had the most bizarre dream while you were in there," he said. "Creepy."

"Like Hallowe'en creepy?" Zeke grinned.

"Worse," Casey said, shutting the visor. He took his coffee and pulled back the plastic tab on the lid, burning his tongue on the first sip. "It was like this town was a twilight zone and we were stuck in it."

Zeke turned over the ignition and slid the gear shift into reverse. "No such luck," he said. "It's just a sleepy little town. You should see the weird twins working behind the counter, though. Talk about fish out of water. I think they probably regard this place as a twilight zone."

Casey slowly looked over at Zeke. "Blondes?" he whispered.

"Nah, red heads. Curly. Like Raggedy Ann and Andy. Shaved brows, lots of piercings."

"Wow," Casey sighed, taking another sip. "Too weird."

"Okay, Mr. Sulu," Zeke said, pulling onto the roadway the way they had come. "Set a course for home."

"Aye, Captain," Casey said, his eyes finding the side mirror on the passenger door and watching the lights of Miller's Basin wink out in the rain behind them. "Fuckin' aye."  



End file.
